


The Plan

by imladrian_girl



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gritty, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-23
Updated: 2017-11-01
Packaged: 2018-04-05 17:36:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 18,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4188816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imladrian_girl/pseuds/imladrian_girl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ever so gently, Thranduil laid Legolas down where his mommy used to rest, and for another hour or so he just knelt on the floor beside him and watched him sleep. Shrouded by the darkness and the blissful unknowing of his boy, he entertained his greatest fear. There had to be a plan in place so that day would never come.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Even the most honorable people have to get their hands dirty to protect the ones they love.

Thranduil Greenleaf was hardly the authority on elegance when he left his bungalow that morning for registration day at the local elementary school. He had been up all night trying to find a descent job and honestly the last thing on his mind was to impress a first grade teacher. 

“Ada, I can see your belly button!”

The last one as a paralegal secretary was close to godliness; it provide him with more than enough money and medical benefits to support him and his growing child, and the hours were especially accommodating. But when his boss made a rather sleazy pass at him, Thranduil made the mistake of exercising his rights and found himself being asked to resign quietly…or else. The severance package was shit and ran dry after two months, and now three months into his savings he was tonguing the desperation endlessly like a cut on the roof of his mouth. 

His grey t-shirt was too short. Thranduil sighed at his warped reflection on the passenger’s side door after throwing up his hair messily and turned to his little leaf. Legolas was perfection in his pressed khakis, blue polo, and maroon cardigan. Anyone who met him could vouch. He was sweet, perfectly behaved, and was as sharp as a razor blade intellectually for his age. “I forgot to bring your orientation packet.”

“It’s in my pack, Ada.” Legolas smiled, took his hand and lead the way across the car park toward the small crowd gathering at the mouth of the cafeteria entrance. 

  


Bard Bowman loved to teach. He was probably one of the happiest employees in the school system, which was a rarity when one taught at the elementary level with three children to support. He had recently lost his wife to cervical cancer, but what she left behind kept him so busy that he hardly had a spare moment to dwell on her death. The kids needed him to be strong now more than ever, and not just his own. Besides, no one was to blame for what happened. 

Voices out in the hall brought him back to reality, and he smiled knowingly as he glanced down at his roster. There were ten kids in his class this year, and only one that hadn’t checked in yet. 

“Are you sure this is it?”

“Yes, Ada.” 

“Well go on in, I’ll just be a second.”

The door finally opened and in came a young boy, cute as a button with shoulder length blonde hair and blue eyes like he’d never seen. Bard smiled as he approached his desk. “You must be Legolas.”

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Bowman.” He replied, offering his little hand for a proper greeting. “Please excuse us for being late. My Ada was up late trying to find a job for us.”

Bard was instantly struck by the boy’s politeness and sincerity, and he was delighted to shake his hand and reassure him that no apology was necessary. Said father, however, looked positively ready to crawl in a hole and die as he listened in from out in the hall. Great. Meeting his son’s surprisingly handsome teacher went from potentially exciting to absolutely dreadful in record time. 

“Will your father be joining us?” was the teacher’s following question, and it was then that Thranduil knew there was no turning back. Taking a few steps back, Thranduil took a deep breath and went to fasten his coat over his ridiculous shirt when he realized the sole button had fallen off. “Aw, shit.” Here’s hoping this one was already married, he thought, and went on in. 

“Here he is. Ada, this is Mr. Bowman!”

The boy was accompanied by a tall and equally striking man who Bard could only assume was his father. Bard stood as he made it to the desk and held out his hand, “You must be Mr. Greenleaf.” Thranduil reluctantly pulled one of his hands out of his coat pocket and shook it, effectively giving Bard a peek at his exposed stomach and hips. Bard remained polite and pretended not to notice (much to Thranduil’s relief), and proceeded with their little orientation by showing Legolas around. 

Thranduil answered the occasional question but otherwise he watched. The kind, goodhearted nature of Legolas’s teacher gave him faith that everything was going to turn out okay for his little one. Legolas knew more about their financial situation than Thranduil would’ve liked, but only because Legolas was such an intuitive kid when it came to people’s feelings, those that he really loved and cared for most especially. “You can mark your lunch by putting your magnetic name tag in one of the two columns for that day here on the board, and your assigned cubby is this one right there. I think you’re going to do great this year, Legolas. What do you think?” 

“Yeah!” He beamed, turning to Thranduil who nodded and smiled right back. “Would you like to speak to Mr. Bowman privately now, Ada?” 

Thranduil’s face fell. This kid. “Oh, uh, sure!” Grabbing his backpack, Thranduil helped him slip it back on and knelt down to talk with him. “Why don’t you go wait in the car? I’ll only be a minute.” The twinkle of mischief in Legolas’s eyes was unmistakable and it made Thranduil wonder what in hell Legolas knew that he didn’t. 

“Yes, Ada,” he replied sweetly, kissing his cheek. “Goodbye Mr. Bowman, see you on Monday.” 

Bard waved after him, “It was nice to meet you, Legolas.” He turned toward Thranduil and invited him back to his desk. “You have a very precocious son, Mr. Greenleaf.” 

Thranduil paused at the foot of his desk and rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, “I promise you he doesn’t see dead people.” 

“The thought hadn’t occurred to me,” Bard replied, chuckling as he took his seat. “So, what can I do for you?”

Thranduil paused, unsure how to continue and after a few moments slumped down onto the corner of his desk. “My wife passed away last summer and since then we’ve moved, I switched jobs, and luckily I found some exemplary daycare for Legolas that helped him adjust while I coped on my own. But, I lost my job five months ago and unfortunately he’s been watching me slowly come apart. The daycare got too expensive, and let me tell you this job market really sucks so it’s been nothing but a daily struggle trying to…” It suddenly occurred to him that he was going off on a very personal tangent, but Bard halted the anxiety of such unrestrained disclosure with a gentle touch of his hand. “Bottom line, I may be a bigger pain in your butt than he will ever be until further notice. Please, whatever you do, don’t hold it against my kid.” 

Sigrid smiled as Bard recounted his meeting with his new student and his father, and she reached across the table and took her da’s hand. “It was meant to be that Legolas be your student, da. If there’s anyone to understand and be empathetic to the struggles of single fatherhood, it’s you.” 

“Thank you, Sig. Although, I must admit I didn’t do it alone.” Bard squeezed her hand, knowing she’d understand but wouldn’t take any of the credit. Still, it never hurt him to express his gratitude. Sigrid was his eldest, with Bain and Tilda following, who had selflessly spent every waking moment helping him and her siblings adjust to the loss of their mother. “I can’t imagine how Thranduil must feel, a recent widower without a job and a son without a big sister like you to help.”

Sigrid studied her father closely, her gentle smile slowly transforming into a knowing smirk behind the rim of her coffee cup. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you took a real fancy to them.” 

“I did.” Bard admitted, propping his chin up on his elbow dreamily. “There really is something special about those two.”

That night, after helping Bard put her brother and sister to bed, and making sure Bard got some sleep too, Sigrid dedicated an entry in her journal to the Greenleafs and the impression they left on her da, and it was during her writing that something even more curious occurred to her about something that Legolas had said. What sort of productive job hunting could one possibly do so late into the night? Sigrid paused, and before she could reconsider, her eyes fell on the laptop sitting on her desk across the room. 

Thranduil’s eyes flitted across the screen, navigating away unproductively with one hand as his other cradled his sleeping son against his chest. For hours luck just wasn’t having him, and so he shut it all down before the worst of it and went upstairs to his room. Ever so gently, Thranduil laid Legolas down where his mommy used to rest, and for another hour or so he just knelt on the floor beside him and watched him sleep. The tears came up anyway. Shrouded by the darkness and the blissful unknowing of his boy, he entertained his greatest fear. 

There had to be a plan in place so that day would never come. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Firstly, thank you for reading, giving kudos, and reviewing! I don't have an editor or anything, and my style does tie in different segments together abruptly which I'll try and make smoother from now on. Also, I'm doing my best to stay one chapter ahead so I can update regularly; bear with me if it goes awry! 
> 
> WARNING: This chapter contains graphic depictions of violence and sexual behavior. Please do not continue if this isn't your cup of tea.

The multimillion-dollar deal was sealed at half-past-seven. Handshakes were exchanged and two seemingly innocuous briefcases were handed over to Thorin Oakenshield and his partners. In them were neatly bound and packed stacks of 100s still fragrant with what the devil would smell like if she was the tightest piece of ass in the bible. 

“You’re in good hands, gentleman.” He said as they concluding their meeting. Sliding into the back seat of his personal limousine, the sharp jawed, dark tyrant tapped against the glass of his promptly closed door. “Take me to blonde one tonight. I want to celebrate and she is always open.”

“Knock, knock.” came the muffled reply. Thorin quickly turned to inspect the barely visible silhouette through the deep tint of the glass, and realizing immediately that it wasn’t his driver, rolled down the window without a moment’s hesitation.

A smug grin came on over his sharply groomed face, “What’s the going rate these days?”

Thranduil leant down to his level, eyes heavy with the weight of the flattery. “I confess. I believe I made a terribly mistake, Mr. Oakenshield.” 

“Oh, yeah? And what makes you think I’m still interested?”

“Because you're the kind of man that never turns away from equity. Not when it suits you more than its serves the offering party. So,” The blonde paused, eyes drifting down to Thorin’s sneering lower lip. “How about I slide into your lap and inspire a little renegotiation?” His eyes lifted back to his, and he eased his head forward through the window until they were mere inches apart, concluding with a husky whisper. “It just so happens… I’m not wearing any underwear.”

By a quarter to eight they were driving presumably to Thorin’s penthouse downtown, at least until Thranduil pulled a gun to his head before his wandering hand could properly cop a feel of his ample package. Thorin also realized that his driver had gone missing long before the moment he boarded the limousine.

“You really think I’d be stupid enough to get into a car with you two dumb-fucks again?” Thranduil growled. Now it was his turn to smirk. “Listen, and listen well. Or I’ll cut out your Adam’s apple and leave you in an alleyway like I did that scumbag driver.” The ex-driver, a gruff redhead from Ireland, was now a slender Caucasian man with fine features and hair and eyes like black ink. He eyed them via the rearview mirror and lifted two fingers in greeting before he disappeared nonchalantly behind the privacy window.

“What do you want, Greenleaf?”

“Ten months of severance pay for starters.” 

“Fuck you!” Thorin shouted, his head flying against the plastic interior that made up the cocktail unit just in front and to the right of him as the butt of the gun slammed into his temple. Thranduil held no quandaries pulling him back into place with a rough hand to his russet curls. “Price just went up.” Thranduil pressed the gun into the wound, coating the barrel with blood and eliciting a gasp from the man for good measure. “I want my money, plus compensation for having to go through all the damn trouble collecting it.”

“$500,000. That’s all I kind write off as a loss at this stage,” he said, kicking one of the leather briefcases on the floorboard toward him. “Take it.” 

“Cheap son-of-a-bitch.”

They came to a stop beneath an abandoned highway overpass on the wrong side of town, and both Thranduil and the driver got out, followed by the tousled corporate lawyer who fell to the concrete with a helping yank from Thranduil. He grabbed a greasy fast-food bag from the backseat before hauling him by the zip ties to a rusty foldup chair awaiting a few yards away. Thorin fell in a heap into it, squinting to make out where he was under the half broken streetlamps and the blood in his eyes. All that was perfectly visible was Thranduil’s face. “I’m here concussed.” He stated, coughing. “Was there something else?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact.” Thranduil replied unflappably, lighting a cigarette from which he dragged deeply before continuing. “I’m going to suck your dick. And knowing how angry you are for having kidnapped you, robbing you at gunpoint, and not letting you fuck me, I have it on good authority that you’re really going to enjoy yourself.” While he explained in a bizarrely upbeat tone, Thranduil got down on his knees and whipped out the semi-hard penis from his expensive pants. He wrapped it into his long, pale fingers and worked the pre-cum along the shaft until it became necessary to add moisture to properly do the job. Thorin started as he was suddenly enveloped in the squelching heat of Thranduil’s mouth, the desire to resist ripped out of him almost instantly as the soft tendrils of pale hair tantalized his thighs. ‘You’re really going to enjoy yourself,’ replayed in his mind, and he found himself clinging to the sound of how he’d said it as Thranduil leant back and eyed him when he dove down to secure his balls in his mouth. This was a trap, and Thorin found himself willingly walking right into it.

You’re really going to enjoy yourself.

Enjoy yourself.

“Ohhh…” Sliding his fingers into his hair, Thorin looked down at the gorgeous man in his lap and groaned uncontrollably. “Yeah, baby, suck that dick for me.” It wouldn’t take him long to come, they could both feel the pulsating bolt of electricity shooting through them being fueled by very similar human emotions; anger and hatred. The anger motivated him and the hatred made him syphon his enemy’s prick until it was drained dry. Had it been under different circumstances, he ‘d care to admit that Thorin was very sexy when experiencing orgasm. But this was far from typical, and oh how he hated him. Thranduil pulled away too soon and hocked up the glob of sperm that made it into his mouth. It splattered sickly to the oily concrete beside him, while the rest coated the front of Thorin’s dress shirt in messy swirls. 

He wiped what remained from his lips with the back of his hand and straightened, looking at him directly in the eye as he fished out his cigarettes from his back pocket and lit up again. “That’s all,” Thranduil said, gesturing back to the limo. “You can go.”

“What?” Thorin asked, clinging to his pants awkwardly as he stood up. “What about…?”

“My guy will drop you off all safe and sound, and _silent_. For all you know, you’ve never met either one of them in your life.”

“Right.” Thorin accepted the cryptic sense of security surrounding the supposed ride home and without another word did as he was told. Thranduil watched the overgrown brush beyond the concrete as the limo drove away, gesturing high above his head when the coast was finally clear. A lone figure emerged from the brush, just blending into what remained of the dying golden horizon in his khaki overcoat. In his hands was a full-frame Canon with a 70-200mm lens.

“You really need to see a shrink.” Elrond suggested, turning the heavy camera towards him and thumbing through the images. “Catch you on your good side?”

“A face full of that prick’s dick. Have I ever looked so good?” Thranduil deadpanned, barely glancing at the screen. “I want prints and digital copies by Friday.” Fishing out two bundles from the paper bag, Thranduil tucked them into his jacket pocket and handed the rest to Elrond. “Give Erestor his cut when you see him, and let me know when you’ve disposed of that piece of shit driver. Have Glorfindel verify the write-offs ASAP, launder the rest, and mail me a check. I don’t want the feds up my ass.” 

“What about Oakenshield?” Elrond tucked the camera under his arms. “You really think he’s going to keep quiet about this?”

“He’s sharper than that, he knows.” Thranduil murmured, “This is over only when I say it is.”

“Need a ride?”

“Nope.” 

It took him about an hour to walk back to his car, but he found he needed that long just to resist the urge to go somewhere and get loaded after what he had just done.

It was all for him, for his little leaf. 

It was all for his little leaf, he repeated. 

It was all for him, for him, for his little leaf, for him. 

“It’s all for my little leaf, for my- …” Thranduil reached his car and fumbled for the keys. “It’s all for him-…” They fell to the ground, and before he could bend down to pick them up someone had already done it for him.

The toothless mouth grinned widely at him, and behind the soot and grime he saw it was a woman offering him the keys and a little something extra in a tiny plastic bag. “Hey man. You wanna buy some shit?” 


	3. Chapter 3

The man that accompanied Legolas to his classroom was not the man he met last week. It was an uncle he’d later discover, although Bard could tell that even with their close physical similarities they weren’t entirely related. At least not where Mr. Greenleaf was concerned.

“Do you have money for lunch?”

“I packed my lunch. I’ll be fine, really.” Legolas replied a little somberly. “Will you tell Ada?”

Haldir cupped his cheek and searched his face, “You don’t have to be fine, you know. He should be here, not your estranged uncle.”

“I know.” Legolas hugged him goodbye before disappearing inside where a man greeted him and took his hand. Haldir caught glances with Bard whom offered a gentle smile of reassurance and waved. Haldir acknowledged him with a nod, unable to smile with his temper flaring up by the minute. When he drove back up to the house Thranduil’s car was sitting in the driveway, and Haldir lingered in his own so as not to sink his claws in and rip his ass apart at first sight.

“Thranduil?”

The reply came, weak and echoed, and Haldir followed it into the master bath. The claw-foot tub was nearly overflowing with scalding hot water, the room so dense with steam that he could barely make out Thranduil’s pale form sitting in it. The water was murky with dirt and the melaluca essential oil was just barely beginning to cleanse the sharp smell of sweat. There was a neon blue wig discarded on the floor.

Haldir walked over and leant against the wall facing him. “I hope you got fucked clear out of your skull, ‘cause otherwise I can’t think of a single reason why you couldn’t show up today.”

“I found some work. They had three straight shifts so I took them,” Thranduil peered up at him, the flesh around his eyes runny with charcoal liner and black mascara, and he held Haldir’s accusatory gaze unwaveringly. “It’s shit but I need the cover, at least for a while. No one questions money from there. That money is _everybody’s_ money.”

“Wipe your face!” Tossing him a towel along with a stack of bills he found on his way through the bedroom, Haldir stood his ground the same way he did every day since he walked into _her_ life. Money went flying through the air, littering the tub and floor softly like fresh winter’s snow. “Your son might mistake you for his mother.” 

Planting both hands on the pearly rim of the tub, Thranduil slowly came to a stand, naked but not bare. Cupping his hands around his balls and dick, Thranduil tilted his chin up defiantly and quirked an eyebrow in question. “How about now? Do I look like her now?”

Haldir glanced down at his genitals and narrowed his eyes. “She may not have had a dick, but you are the biggest cunt.”

Unexpectedly, the doorbell rang.

Thranduil pulled out a shotgun he’d been hiding under some towels and cocked it smoothly. “Don’t move.”

“Fuck you.” Haldir managed to dodge and slip across the wet floor towards the stairs. Thranduil reached the bottom of the flight just in time to pull the hallway rug out from under him, sending Haldir slamming to the ground a few feet from the front door. Grabbing him by the shirt, Thranduil flipped him over and stifled his protests with a hand to his mouth, gesturing toward the caller pointedly with the barrel of his gun. “Not another word, or I’ll shoot you _both_.”

Winded, Haldir was hardly about it and slumped against the wall where he wouldn’t be seen and simply watched his brother-in-law answer the door still in the buff. He’d roll the shit out of his eyes if it weren’t for the splitting headache.

“Who is it?”

“Delivery for T. Greenleaf?”

Thranduil peaked through the window with his gun discreetly out of sight. There was a young man, barely out of puberty, standing at his doorstep decked out in a uniform that matched the small commercial truck parked at the curb. In his hands he held an obscene gaggle of exotic flowers arranged perfectly in an ornate emerald green vase. A card stuck up proudly out of the bouquet like a nation’s flag.

“From whom?” Glorfindel, he guessed. This was his cut, squeaky clean.

The boy hesitated, fumbling momentarily for a small pad in his pocket. “T. Oakenshield, sir. Will you accept?”

“That motherfucker!” It came out like Tourette’s, startling both the boy and Haldir.

“Look man, if you don’t want the flowers it’s cool…”

“Someone sent you flowers?” Haldir asked.

“Leave them on the porch, please. Thank you.”

“Who the fuck would do that?”

“Shut up, Haldir.”

“Yeah, okay.” The boy gently set them down and waved the pad awkwardly towards the viewfinder, “Can I get a signature?”

“I sure as shit won’t send flowers. Not even after you are dead.”

Thranduil spun around, over the both of them, and not only saw but also spewed out red like sudden onset word vomit. “I said, FUCK OFF.”

They both heard the boy drop his pad and bolt off the porch, the squeal of the delivery truck tires cutting through the thick silence now settling between them. When the road was clear, Thranduil tore the door wide-open and kicked Haldir’s belongings out onto the porch. One of his shoes struck the arrangement and it teeter-tottered, somehow regaining its balance in spite of all the cosmic reasons why it shouldn’t have.

“We have an understanding, Legolas and I,” he said. Thranduil swiped the card up from the plastic hand and kicked the vase over the side, sending it crashing down onto the pavement noisily and without a solitary care. “If you don’t like that I’m his father, that’s a whole other matter to be properly discussed at a later time. Preferably never.”

Thranduil left him on the porch steps. It was nearly time to go to the school by the time Haldir left. God, how he liked him better then, when they’d just met all those years ago at Uni. Thranduil combed his hair to the side and slipped on a black blazer over his appropriately cut t-shirt and jeans as he rushed up the steps into the school. The halls were a bustle with young children rushing to catch their bus or go to their afterschool care programs. Did Legolas know what to do? Thranduil suddenly felt that he couldn’t reach his son’s classroom fast enough, and bolted inside so quickly that he startled them both.

“Ada!” Legolas cried, running worriedly to embrace his father who was now no longer missing. “I missed you,” he whispered into his hair. “Please, say ‘see you later’ next time.”

Thranduil closed his eyes, squeezing him tight like he used to when mommy was alive. “Alright then. It’s done.”

Bard approached as their moment faded, and placed a warm hand in greeting against Thranduil’s shoulder. “Wearing more suitable attire today.”

Thranduil chuckled, pinning him with a brazenly direct stare. “Only what you can see.” There was a prolonged bout of silence that followed in which Bard and Thranduil only looked at one another with the same understanding in their eyes, if only for too short a moment before it was lost forever. “I apologize for not dropping him off. I hope Haldir wasn’t a complete animal.”

“I didn't speak to him. He dropped Legolas off and I waved to him from the window.” Bard smiled a little knowingly, “I take it he’s not a close relative?”

“Not as close as he wants to be.” Thranduil pulled the keys out of his pocket and dropped them into his son’s hands, assuring them without a word that he had no qualms waiting in the car as he ran off jovially. “How’d he do?”

“Oh, he did great,” Bard assured, gesturing over towards a few drawings Legolas had created sitting on the art table. “Look at these. I think he has some real talent here.”

The sketch was rough, but the lines and scribbles created a rather lifelike rendition of what he looked like through the eyes of his child. They were so sad, dark even, and so beautiful too. Thranduil wiped an eye, found it still running with the remains of mascara and dismissed himself awkwardly without so much as a backwards glance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed so far! I'm trying to figure out a game plan so as to keep this fic rolling, but writer's block has been going around lately. Keep those thoughts coming, and let me know if I should continue. The story is always better in my head!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An avenue opens up for Bard to get to know a little more about the Greenleafs, and the murky past comes between Haldir and Thranduil.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much alikuu for your recent review! This really helped get my creative juices flowing, and I so appreciate it. I hope everyone is enjoying the fic and look I forward to more motivating feedback! 
> 
> XO

Bard watched him depart with a wary heart.  The pictures were upsetting. What Legolas saw was what Bard saw, and now Thranduil knows, too. Putting away the pictures, Bard tucked them into Legolas’s cubby and went to pack for the day when he heard that familiar little giggle. It grew louder the closer he got to his desk.

“And what do you think you’re doing there, young lady?”

“Find me, Da.” Came the whispered reply, but only because the giggles were getting too hard to contain.

Bard rolled his eyes playfully and pulled the office chair away from the desk. There in the hollow, sat his youngest in her newly bought 70s inspired corduroy pants (the color of mustard) and a faded J.R.R Tolkien’s The Hobbit t-shirt from the cartoon that (in Bard’s opinion) did the characters no justice. She had her hands covering her eyes for extra security. “Tilda,” Bard started.

“I don’t see you yet, but you’re getting warmer.”

“Come out of there, those clothes nearly cost me a buck and a half.”

Tilda slowly peeked out from behind her hands, and laughed bashfully when she spotted her father’s frowny face. Taking his hand, he gave her a ride up and off the floor that sent her heart racing in a way nothing else in her whole life would. “That man’s funny.” She stated rather matter-a-fact as she dusted herself off.

Bard took her hand and together they walked out to the parking lot. “What man is that?” Bard finally asked.

“Mr. Greenleaf, Da.” Tilda met his questioning gaze and nodded, “Legolas was all alone during recess today, so I said hello! I think I scared him.” Tilda giggled and continued, “He had a picture of Mr. Greenleaf in his lunchbox, which he told me he took himself.”

“Why would you say he’s funny, Tilda?”

“Well,” Tilda took off her backpack and climbed into the backseat, “Legolas says he’s almost always sad, and leaves without saying goodbye alot.” Tilda’s eyesbrows shot up as she gesticulated back to the classroom with her thumb, “Like just now! See what I mean?”

“I do,” Bard admitted. They drove up through the town the way they usually did, but Bard ended up taking an unexpected detour that lead them to their local ice cream parlor. “How about a ‘Just ‘Cuz treat, what do you say?”

“Yeah!” Tilda hurriedly unbuckled herself and got out.

These outings were their best-kept secret, and Tilda felt honored that she had been the one chosen to have these special outings with her dad. They shared a large banana split with extra cherries while Bard asked her more about her first day. The conversation naturally returned to the subject of the Greenleafs, which Bard had counted on in exchange for ruining his daughter’s dinner. “Can Legolas come to my birthday this weekend, Da?” Bard had a cherry halfway down his throat when she’d asked, and he could hardly believe his luck and started to choke. Tilda stood on the bench and patted him on the back gravely, laughing when he started laughing so happily that he picked her up and tossed her in the air.

Tilda wrapped her arms and legs around him and snuggled into his shoulder. “I think he needs a friend.”

Bard kissed her hair and sighed blessedly. “Of course he can, doll face. We all could use a friend.”

 

* * *

 

The school week came and went. On Friday afternoon, Thranduil was on the phone with Glorfindel when Legolas came running at him with a very large and glimmering shard of ornate emerald glass.  Haldir was trailing behind him, smirking faintly. “I got to go.”

“Look what I found on the sidewalk!”

“Some parent you are.” Thranduil confiscated it and fixed them both some dinner. He stalled further afterwards by sweeping up the mess and properly disposing of the glass in a brown paper bag marked ‘Danger: Broken Glass’ in red Sharpie marker.

Haldir watched him from the porch while he quietly smoked a cigarette. The sun was setting beautifully through the pines, and the cool autumn breeze sweeping in from across the lake just beyond them was a balm to his estranged existence. After tossing out the rubbish, Thranduil joined him on the porch and they sat in amicable silence until the sun completely set and darkness shrouded them.

“Mind telling me what’s got you sleeping with one eye open these days?”

“With all due respect it doesn’t really concern you, Haldir. I’d prefer it stay that way.”

“Doesn’t concern me?” Haldir bristled, the tips of his fingers tingling with pent up aggression. “Are you fucking kidding me? Legolas is my blood!”

“Don’t fucking shout at me!” Thranduil hissed, pointing to the open doorway where Legolas was surely listening in from somewhere. “You want to be in Legolas’s life all of a sudden? Okay, have at it. But I don’t want you in mine.” 

“I know you’re back to turning tricks at that shithole nightclub. How do you think that makes me feel after what happened there the first time?”

Thranduil scoffed, “Haldir-.”

“You remember that night, don’t you? What those fuckers did to your wife?”

“Haldir, fuck!” Thranduil shoved him off the porch and into the woods where he was safe to shout and Thranduil safe to murder him should he finally reach his limit.

Haldir didn’t appreciate it too much, and as was his temper, backhanded him impatiently. Thranduil stumbled back, tripped over a root and fell to the ground. “Dammit,” he cursed and kicked up some dirt and pine needles with his boot. “Why can’t you just fucking…?”

Thranduil lay there until the coppery taste gave him the overwhelming need to spit. “Legolas knows everything. Everything,” Thranduil stressed, looking up at him, “except for the truth about his mother. If you have so much as jeopardized this tonight, I’ll be the one to kill his uncle, too.” 

Haldir watched him until he disappeared into the house, feeling for the first time like he too might not know what truly happened to her.

It was almost three o’clock in the morning before Thranduil opened the letter. The envelope did contain a check from the money he managed to get out of Oakenshield. Thorin signed it personally along with a formal letter reinstating his position as his personal office administrator. Thranduil dropped the papers on the counter, closed his eyes, and began breathing in and out. Inside his robe pocket, there was a key. He found it tied delicately with a piece of ribbon to the broken vase, and this he gripped so angrily until it cut open his skin.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haldir takes initiative regarding Legolas's invitation, and Glorfindel helps Thranduil come clean in more ways than one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again, alikuu! Thank you for appreciating my perspective, and all the turmoil I subject these characters to! There is something secretly good about the conflict, because deep down there's a reason behind it all. 
> 
> Also, thank you to the other members and guests who have reviewed and left kudos. I hope you're enjoying it as much as we are!

The next morning, Haldir discovered just how rough the night had turned out for Thranduil when he found him passed out on the bedroom floor in a rather large and permanent puddle of cabernet. He nearly tripped over an empty bottle on his way to check his pulse with his free hand. In the other, he held a child’s DIY made birthday invitation. The wet carpet squelched beneath his feet, but he was pleased to discover that Thranduil was simply in a drunken coma and put him to bed. “Thranduil?” Haldir brushed some errant hair away from his face, following the sharp line of his jaw to the hollow at the base of his throat. The golden hair was brittle and dry, and the skin that once shined like warm caramel was lackluster and pale. And yet, Haldir couldn’t help but find him as beautiful as the day he walked into his sister’s life.

Glorfindel chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly as they stood there commiserating in front of Thranduil’s bed. “So, you want me to do what exactly?”

“Legolas received an invitation to a birthday party and I’m going to take him. If he wakes up and we’re not back he’ll put my balls in a vice. Would you mind hanging around until we get back?”

“If I woke up from a drunken stupor to discover that you got me a babysitter, I would too.” Glorfindel followed him out and they continued the conversation downstairs. “How’s the little one?”

“He seems fine. He’ll come down and say hello, we just started his shower. Coffee?” Glorfindel nodded, and Haldir dug out the French press and coarse ground some organic Colombian. “Hard to read though, I’ll admit.”

Glorfindel stopped him, perplexed. “Did you say hard to read?”

“Yeah,” he replied. “Nothing seems to bother him much. He’s very well behaved, even with me around, and his new teacher thinks the world of him.”

“I don’t know the first thing about kids, Haldir, but I don’t think that means he has nothing to say.”

Legolas could faintly hear what they were saying above the running water, and when he knew the conversation would be ongoing, at least for the next several minutes, he slowly crept across the hall and into his father’s room. “Ada?” The bed was partly in shadows, but he could make out his figure and carefully sidestepped the wet red stain on the carpet on his way over. Gently, he shook him, and when he didn’t reply, Legolas climbed in beside him and gently pressed his cheek to his father’s nose. His breathing was even and deep, and Legolas smiled. After his mother died, the doctor gave them some pills to take when they felt sad remembering her. Legolas long ago stopped taking them, but Thranduil seemed to enjoy the help they gave him. The bedside table was full of the familiar orange bottles, and before he kissed him goodbye, Legolas fetched him a cup of water from the bathroom and left it on the table along with a single dose.

Haldir and Legolas were long gone when Thranduil came to. The house was unnervingly quiet, and he remained there enjoying the silence until Glorfindel scared the living shit out him and walked into the room. “The fuck, man!”

“You’re awake!” Glorfindel winced sheepishly, gesturing to the tray in his hands. “I thought you might be hungry so…” He carried the tray over and placed it on the bedside table.

Despite his annoyance, Thranduil couldn’t help but bask in Glorfindel’s irreverent beauty. The man was always so fashionable and fresh faced, and his hair, skin, and nails glowed and breathed as if he were completely immune to the world’s toxins and stressors.

“Hung over?” He asked, flashing his pearly whites.

“I don’t feel anything.” Thranduil distracted himself with the goodies on the tray and wondered where in hell Glorfindel managed to find something so fresh in this house. An antioxidant rich fruit medley sat astride a small pot and ladle of organic honey and a steaming cup of green tea. Next to the glass of freshly squeezed lemonade sat what looked like a handmade card. Thranduil rolled his eyes and read it. “What’s this?”

“It’s a birthday invite.”

Thranduil sat up, “He took my son?”

“Yes, to a classmate’s birthday party.” Glorfindel sat down beside him on the bed and crossed his arms. “And do you know why? Because it’s good for Legolas to make friends, to spend time being a nine year-old and not minding over his self-pitying, strung out Ada.”

“I am not self-pitying.”

“When was the last time you nourished your hair, or cleaned under your nails?” Glorfindel grabbed his hand and grimaced.

Thranduil scoffed, ripping his hand back and nonchalantly hiding it under the sheets. “Stop that. I wash my hair.”

“With what? Hydrochloric acid? I know you’ve been through a lot of stress recently, but you look more like a crack whore’s unwashed cha-cha than a single dad with a little financial turmoil. Which, by the way, we all go through, and does not sufficiently explain looking or feeling like” he gestured to all of him entirely, “this.”

“I don’t expect you to understand what I’m…” Thranduil caught a glimpse of himself in standup mirror over in the corner and fell silent. Before he knew it, tears welled up in his eyes and trailed down his pale, hollow cheeks. “I can’t go out like this. I don’t know how I have.”

“You don’t have to, “ Glorfindel said, grabbing his designer weekender bag seemingly out of nowhere. “We can do it all right here.”

Within the hour, Glorfindel had Thranduil soaking in a fresh lemon and cucumber infused salt bath donning an avocado mask on his face and a hair cap on his head. Candle flames were dancing, and the smell of 100% pure therapeutic grade lemon essential oil was permeating the air and lungs, taking things to a cellular level. Glorfindel quietly put away the conditioning treatment now working its magic on his friend’s hair, and smiled as Thranduil’s lips parted in a quiet sigh. “How are you doing, mate?”

“I think,” Thranduil took a deep, cleansing breath and exhaled divinely. “I think I’m getting a hard on. This feels… I feel…”

“I understand, just enjoy it.” Next came the foot rub, which Thranduil could barely sit through without losing his cucumber slices. It lasted only a few minutes, but the effects were breathtaking. Glorfindel excused himself momentarily, and Thranduil slowly sat up in the tub. The cucumber slices came loose again, this time with the tears that Thranduil could no longer hold back. It had been ages, ages since he had felt another human being touch him with kind hands. Even longer still since he took the time to take care of himself, do something just for himself amidst all the chaos, and it felt so good to finally experience feeling like a human being again. He almost forgot what it felt like. Thranduil smiled, meeting Glorfindel’s gaze as he joined him again tub side with nothing but compassion and understanding in his eyes. “Thank you for this. I owe you the world.”

Glorfindel pressed his forehead to his avocado slathered one and smiled, “Think nothing of it.”

After his bath, they finished his facial at the bathroom vanity counter and Glorfindel proceeded to do his nails while they waited for the second phase of the deep conditioning treatment. “Do you trust me with trimming your hair?” Glorfindel asked, looking up from his buffing.

“At this point, Glorfindel, I trust you with anything.” Thranduil said, glancing at himself for the hundredth time. “One treatment and poof! Months of under eye fatigue and self loathing gone.” They shared a laugh, and they were both so glad to hear Thranduil’s again that they laughed harder.

“Maybe now you can help me make a believer out of Haldir.” Glorfindel finished with his hands and grabbed a towel. “That guy needs a serious facial peel. He has such a clear complexion, but it’s wholly lackluster!” he said, towel drying and running a comb through Thranduil’s hair with ease. He started trimming the ends and Thranduil stayed unnervingly quiet to the point where Glorfindel had to stop completely. “Haldir’s in love with you. You’re smart enough to have caught on to this, right?”

“Sure,” Thranduil admitted. “But he has a fucked up way of showing it. I’m also smart enough to know that it won’t change either, not for me or anyone. I’m not up for that, not again.”

“That there on your lip. That’s his work?”

“He started getting physical shortly after she died. I didn’t think anything of it at first, with how fucked she left everyone in her wake, but I’ve accepted the truth now. He hits me because he loves me, and I won’t love him back. It’s his way of working it out, at least while he feels obligated to be in my son’s life.”

“Why do you make him think that she didn’t fucking OD?”

“She didn’t die because she overdosed, Glorfindel.” Thranduil stated, swallowing heavily. “She died because I didn’t help her. I stood there and watched her choke on her own vomit, praying that I was making the right decision.”

Satisfied, Glorfindel nodded and resumed his trimming.

“Aren’t you going ask me?” Thranduil raised an eyebrow at him through the mirror. “Whether or not I made the right decision?”

“No.” Glorfindel answered, grabbing the blow dryer and bristle brush. He flashed his pearly whites again as if they’d just been gossiping like two fat slags at a pie bakeoff. “Say no more.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The past is right here." - From the movie, Little Fish (2006).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alikuu, I dedicate this chapter to you and all your kind and wonderful words! It really only takes one person to share in the crazy excitement that is a fan fiction to propel one's imagination forward!
> 
> Hope you, and the rest of the readers enjoy this one!

The birthday party turned out to be for the daughter of Legolas’s recently widowed new teacher, and whom Haldir was unpleasantly surprised to discover was the youngest of three children. It was the oldest that greeted them at the door of their bungalow similar to Thranduil’s, except with more clutter and minimally manicured.

“Hi, you must be Legolas!” Sigrid invited them in, and after introducing herself to Haldir, lead them to the backyard where the birthday girl and all the other nine year-olds were wreaking havoc on a large bouncy castle. Bard was on the porch manning hot dogs and hamburgers on a charcoal iron grill like Haldir had never seen.  He was talking to a woman. Or, rather, she was talking to him and he was politely feigning interest. “Tilda! Look who’s here!”

The curly haired girl in faded flares and a retro Pink Floyd t-shirt came running up in no time, more excited to have Legolas as a guest than the birthday gift he presented her with. She offered Haldir a wobbly curtsy before leading Legolas off the porch back to the bouncy castle. Haldir quickly established himself as the strong silent type and stayed clear of the parental cliques hanging around. Instead, he helped himself to a beer and perched himself on the steps. Bard watched him, and proceeded to formally introduce himself when Bain took a turn at the food. “Thank you for coming. I’m sure this wasn’t exactly how you pictured your Saturday night.”

“Legolas was excited to come so it was a no brainer.” Haldir shook his hand and offered nothing more, but didn’t protest when Bard took a seat beside him and cracked open a beer of his own.

Tilda waited patiently for Legolas to remove his boots, talking excitedly (probably about the bouncy castle) as he did so, before taking his hand and leading him inside. Legolas was all smiles, and both Bard and Haldir knew how significantly rare they were these days. “Tilda’s really taken with him. It’s hard to believe she only met him a week ago with the way she talks about him.”

Haldir turned to him. “What does she say?”

“That he’s the sweetest most interesting boy she’s ever met,” he said. “Thranduil has nothing to worry about. Legolas is going to be just fine.” Bard turned to him and smiled, “How is he?”

“Fine.” Haldir said, “I told him about the party but he didn’t seem very interested.”

“No offense taken.” Bard responded kindly, “Like I said, not the most ideal way to spend a Saturday night. It’s rare to get out as a single parent. I hope he’s making the most of it for both our sakes.” There was an underlying message to Haldir’s coldness that came across loud and clear to Bard. It said to him, ‘stay away from my family. They are not for you.’

The kids gathered around the round picnic table to sing happy birthday to Tilda just as night fell, and beneath the twinkle of the string lights and the glow of the candles, Bard joined in merrily. Tilda beamed from ear to ear, bashful and sweet, with Legolas right beside her. He might as well have been serenading her all by himself. The party slowly waned after that, until all that remained was the present from Legolas.

Sigrid and Bain tucked Tilda in while Bard cleaned up, and when he came into kiss her goodnight he saw it sitting on the window seat still perfectly wrapped. Bard brought it over and sat it on her lap. “Can we open it now?”

Tilda nodded and together they ripped open the package excitedly.

* * *

 

Thranduil felt so good after Glorfindel’s Royal Treatment that he insisted on making him dinner as a thank you. After going to the grocery store and properly restocking the pantry of course. They were having a third glass of wine and passing a joint between them on the enclosed veranda when Haldir and Legolas came home.

“Take this, take this!” Thranduil insisted, handing Glorfindel the weed and giggling like two teenage boys. “Hi guys!” Legolas came running up and Thranduil sat up and hauled him into his lap. “How was the party?”

 “It was so much fun, Ada! Tilda and I played on the bouncy castle together, and then we had cake and ice cream!” Glorfindel smiled as Legolas went on, until he caught a glimpse of the sour look on Haldir’s face.  Thranduil didn’t notice. “Tilda,” Thranduil smiled. “Is that your new friend’s name?”        

“Mhmm! She’s ten now.” Legolas grew momentarily distracted as he looked more closely at his father’s face. Lovingly, he stroked through his incredibly soft and shiny hair and inhaled his clean, lemony scent. “You look beautiful, Ada.”

“Uncle Glorfindel did it,” Thranduil said, and they both laughed. “Do you like it?”

“It’s terrific, Uncle Fin!”

Glorfindel winked, “Thank you, baby.”

“So, did you buy her a present?” Thranduil asked, hugging Legolas to him and looking to Haldir for an answer.

“Uncle Haldir did, but I didn’t get to see what it was.”

There was an awkward pause.

“Well,” Glorfindel started, “I better be going.”

“No.” Thranduil said more forcibly that he intended. He shook his head, smiling. “Please, stay. Legolas go have a bath and start getting ready for bed, you’ve got lessons in the morning.”

“Okay, Ada,” he said, and kissed his face. “Come tuck me in!”

“Okay,” Thranduil helped him down and playfully tickled him off. “I’ll be up there in a minute.”

When Legolas was safely out of earshot, Thranduil pinned the attention back on Haldir. “You look well,” Haldir observed. “Did you do something different?”

“I don’t appreciate your tone, but yeah. Glorfindel and I had a great day together, thank you for calling him.”

“Oh, like a girl’s day?” There was an undeniably sarcastic twang to that one that even Glorfindel had to say something.

“I didn’t spend the day fucking him behind your back if that’s what you’re getting at.” Glorfindel dared him for a comeback. “You asked me to keep an eye on him, and I more than delivered if you haven’t noticed.”          

“Don’t flatter yourself, Glorfindel. It’s not you I’m worried about.”

Thranduil held up a hand towards Glorfindel as he sat up in his seat to protest. “Clearly you’ve got something to say, so say it.”

Whether or not what he pictured was going on between Bard and Thranduil was actually true no longer mattered, Haldir felt too scorned by Thranduil for too long now to admit that his raging desire to have him had finally trumped all reason.

“I found you lying in a sea of wine this morning, dead drunk. I was the only one around to take care of Legolas, _again_. Had I taken you to a hospital where you belong, those doctors would have you committed in a heartbeat. Is that what you want?”

Thranduil had the grace to look guilty. “I’m sorry. I truly appreciate what you’ve done for us lately.”

“Oh, don’t do that.” Glorfindel scoffed and sipped his wine. “One look at his track record for being a foul tempered son-of-a-bitch and they’d put him where the sun don’t shine. Climb off your high horse, will you?”

Thranduil sensed Haldir’s temper just as it boiled over, and managed to intercept him when he charged at full speed towards Glorfindel. “Stop it, no!”

Haldir was in better health and much bulkier, however, and sent him flying off to the side like a rag doll. It bought Glorfindel some time, and he managed to hurl his weight into him and tackle him to the ground. “Thranduil!” Glorfindel gritted his teeth and forced all his weight into Haldir’s windpipe, praying to God he’d pass out at any given moment. Thranduil had smashed into a bookshelf and tumbled hard on the ground. He wasn’t moving. “Thranduil!”

“Stupid fuck!” Haldir bellowed, bucking Glorfindel off and scrambling for a weapon. He grabbed the base of a metal lamp and ripping out of the wall, swung it wide and down like an axe. Glorfindel had just enough room to roll away. In the wake of his show of force, it split and splintered the hardwood where it made contact with the floor. Would his bones do the same? Trapped against the wall and with nowhere to go, Glorfindel raised his arms to brace himself as Haldir prepared to take another swing.

Instead came a loud and terrible blast, but not before Haldir’s body went flying over the side of the living room couch by some unseen force. The shot permeated the wall messily, and Glorfindel slowly sat up and swiped the pile of sheetrock off his face while Thranduil dropped the shotgun like a hot potato. “Oh shit. Fin?”

Together, with Glorfindel slightly at a limp, they rounded the furniture to see what was on the other side.  Better yet, _whom_.

There were in fact two. A shockingly unscathed Haldir alongside, Thranduil went wide-eyed, “Bard?”

“Bard?” Glorfindel echoed, searching Thranduil’s face for verification. “The elementary school teacher?”

Both men sat up, and never to disappoint, Haldir was less than pleased with his presence despite the fact that this man may have just saved his life. “What part of the phrase ‘fuck off’ did you not understand?”

Glorfindel shook his head, the only one with a working cerebrum to lend Bard a hand off the remains of the coffee table.  “You’re unbelievable, Haldir.”

“What _are_ you doing here?” Thranduil restated, also curious and still spellbound with equal parts astonishment and humiliation. This man has more than witnessed the wrong in this family, and now how he nearly shot his brother-in-law in cold blood.

“I came to return the present that Legolas gave to my daughter.” Bard grabbed something he’d evidently dropped by the door and brought it inside. Thranduil’s fists went up into his hair as Bard pulled out the mangled porcelain doll from the giftwrapping. He then reached inside the backing and pulled out what remained of a small stash of heroin, a bent silver spoon and needle. “I don’t think it was something he picked out himself given how inappropriate it is for a ten year-old.”

Thranduil exhaled desperately, looking to Haldir with a million emotions tugging at his face. “That’s-..!” Thranduil choked on his own disbelief, “What the hell is wrong with you! Why do you insist on punishing us? Punishing Legolas, who has _no one_ , save the friendship of a kind man’s little girl and you go and destroy that for what? All because I ended up with your fucking bitch sister instead of you?”

Haldir pounded his fists into the couch and seethed silently. “I was only trying to protect you. People are deceitful and cruel, and this one is no different. He’s a wolf in sheep’s clothing, and I won’t sit by and watch it happen again.”

Glorfindel sank down in a seat, while Bard just stood there staring at Haldir is if he’d grown two heads. Thranduil was equally perturbed, and voiced what everyone in the room was thinking. “Did you honestly think you were just going to waltz in here and stake your claim on this household? This is my house, and if it hadn’t been for this man you’re so intent on marking as criminal, I’d have protected it by putting a bullet in your brain once and for all. You are the criminal, Haldir. You are abusive and disloyal in every which way, and I sure as shit can't believe anyone could do any worse.”

“I came back,” Haldir paused, “for you.” Haldir came a few steps closer and leant forward, narrowing his eyes. “Let me be perfectly clear, Thranduil. I have no intention of staying here. I hate this town; it’s a fucking cesspool of a town that deals out nothing but shit and misery. But I came back, because I love you both and I know that I can give you what you need if I can just get you the hell out of here! I am not the person that I am here, and neither are you or even Legolas. Haven’t you had enough? Don’t you deserve a better life? Doesn’t he?”

The entire room quieted. Haldir was right, about the town. It was a cesspool. It was a decaying hole in the gut of humanity. But this is where they learned to thrive, and just as old habits are hard to undo, old wounds they've never been without will never stop aching. “I don’t love you, Haldir,” Thranduil declared rather calmly. “Not in this town, nor the next. If paradise for you lies elsewhere, if there is such a place at all, then I suggest you leave and never return, and think of us kindly and often when you do.”

Sigrid was startled when Legolas’s uncle came barging out of the house. She hunkered down low in her seat and watched him throw a heavy suitcase into his nearby car, wincing as he proceeded to violently peel out of the Greenleaf’s driveway. On the ground, along one of the tire tracks crushed bits of porcelain trailed off after him, until the wind picked up and blew them away.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the aftermath of Haldir's tirade, Glorfindel obligates Bard to remain in his stead and begins to unravel yet another mystery surrounding the Greenleafs.

Sigrid quickly unbuckled her seatbelt and rushed over to the house. The front door wasn't secure and she could hear her father speaking to someone in a nearby room. “Da?”

“They can’t be alone here tonight. Couldn’t you…?” Glorfindel trailed off as Bard held up a hand and retreated briefly into the living room. Worriedly, he released a heavy sigh and palmed his brain. Someone had to stay with Thranduil and Legolas. Calling the police was simply out of the question. Elrond and his lot were in far too deep already, and all this had to happen precisely the day before he was to attempt to set his own life back on course. The toaster reflected a man who was anything but. His lip and nose were crusted with dried blood, and wiping it away only served to reveal the bruising and swelling that would last for days. “Cocksucker!” Bard reappeared with a young woman in tow. Glorfindel tossed the bloody towel aside. “Who’s this?”

“Fin, this is Sigrid. She’s my eldest.”

“Nice to meet you. Please excuse the mess, we’re remodeling.” Glorfindel replied, shaking the hand she offered. He turned to Bard and clasped his shoulders desperately with both hands. “They’ll be murdered in their sleep if he returns, Bard, you have to stay with them.”

Sigrid gasped, hands shooting up to cover her mouth. Slowly, she lowered them and shook her head. “Those _were_ gunshots I heard…”

“Best keep that little detail to yourself, love.”

“Or what?” Bard asked. It was a legitimate question. He’d happen to stumble upon a very serious dispute and was undoubtedly involved if Haldir had anything to say about it.

“Da!” Sigrid came up behind him and took his arm protectively. “Are you threatening us?”

“It’s alright, honey,” Bard said, more to Glorfindel than to Sigrid. “I have two others waiting for me at home. I can’t just abandon them.”

“No, that wasn’t a threat, little darling, but I’d be happy to oblige you.” Glorfindel’s gaze intensified. “My people need protecting too.”

Bard continued the uphill climb for the sake of logic. “Please, Glorfindel, just hear me out. Thranduil and Legolas have barely known me a week. How could you deem a practically perfect stranger worthy of protecting them?”

Glorfindel removed his hands and studied him in such a way that Bard knew he’d missed something, something he should have caught on to but simply hadn’t. He recalled Thranduil giving him that same look once before, on Legolas’ first day of school. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“They will be safe,” Glorfindel murmured. “And you’re not a perfect stranger. Not anymore.”

“I’ll watch over Tilda and Bain tonight, Da.” Sigrid piped in, exchanging encouraging glances with him. “It’s Sunday after all.”

“Sunday...” Sunday was bliss in the Bowman household. It meant sleeping in, french toast for lunch, spending time as a family all day in their pajamas. Bard sighed. “Very well. I'd be happy to stay.”

Glorfindel softened, his gaze passing briefly to Sigrid over Bard’s shoulder. “I owe you one.”

***

            _Instead came a loud and terrible blast. It permeated Haldir’s body and delivered a thin spray of wetness that covered Glorfindel’s face and stung his eyes. When he quickly wiped it away and inspected his fingers, he saw that it was blood. Haldir stood stunned in mid swing for what seemed like a minute before he came down to his knees and collapsed faced first on the ground beside him._

_There was no noise then, but having survived was deafening to them both._

_When Glorfindel managed to tear his eyes away from the body and look to the source, he saw Thranduil standing on the other side of the room. The color had once again drained from his face, his eyes wide as saucers. In his hands was a shotgun. The grip on it was so incredibly tight that his fingers were more pale and emaciated than that of any skeleton. The blood than ran from the wound on his head glowed by comparison. “He’s dead.” Thranduil’s face contorted as he fell to his knees, and he pressed the gun to his chest like a child does a teddy bear, seeking the comfort he felt from it moments ago, before releasing a keening wail from deep in his gut from the horror it caused him. “Oh God! Oh God, I killed him!”_

_Glorfindel took him in his bloody arms, experiencing shock in the form of absolute stillness until he spotted a man standing outside the window. He’d seen it all, and the look he had on his face would be indescribable till the end of days. In his shaking hands he held what looked like a partially opened birthday gift. “Please!” Glorfindel cried out, “Help us!”_

            Thranduil was torn out of his nightmares by the sound of his own voice. It was soft at first, then got louder and louder until he realized he was screaming. He sprung up into a sitting position gulping for air. The bedding was drenched in sweat, and the way the sheets, his hair and his clothes clung to his moist skin was too much to tolerate. It was suffocating. It was suffocating!

            Bard had barely settled down on the sleeper sofa when he heard the ruckus emanating from upstairs, and he found himself so afraid for Thranduil’s safety that he didn’t hesitate to grab the shotgun Glorfindel had reloaded for him on his way up. Bard cocked it just as he reached the bedroom door and swung it wide open. “Thranduil!” The blonde was on the floor, hyperventilating, and reached out to him desperately. Bard quickly assessed that he was alone and abandoned the firearm carefully before helping up and into the bathroom. “Thranduil, you’re having a panic attack. You’ve got to breathe, slowly.” Bard hoisted him up on the counter and turned on the tap, ripping a hand towel from the nearby rack and soaking under the running water while he spoke. His physical presence must have been grounding, for Thranduil stopped his struggling suddenly to cling tightly to his arms. They locked eyes. Bard nodded, “That’s right, look at me, watch…

Breathe in… breathe out.

Breathe in... breathe out.

Breathe in... breathe out.

That’s it, once more…” Bard smiled and wrung out the towel as best he could with his free hand, gently patting the blonde’s flushed face until his eyes fluttered shut and his entire body gave a deep sigh of relief.

Thranduil slowly opened his eyes. He struggled to form words. Bard smiled and hushed him, helping him back into bed where he could properly succumb to the exhaustion of the recent events. Whatever it was, it could wait until the morrow. Bard turned to shut off the bedside lamp, when through the half opened drawer he spotted the pile of yellow bottles. They were labeled Zoloft, Xanax, and some not at all. Deeper still, sitting on top of a shoebox full of old letters and Polaroid photographs was a chambered 1911, a box of ammo, and an extra clip. Bard reached in and grabbed the gun, making sure first and foremost that its safety was engaged. It was sticky with remnants of grape juice or… Bard turned toward the eyesore of a stain on the rug a few feet away: red wine.

The photographs were of Legolas mostly, and of Thranduil in his undergraduate years. How old was Thranduil? He must have had him young. There were also a few of who must have been his late wife. Hers weren’t the kind of memories you’d want to flip through in a photo album, which was perhaps the reason Thranduil had them tucked away in here, in the dark. She was sickly with vacant eyes, and in her bony, bruised arms she cradled an equally worn doll in almost every one. “Jesus,” Bard whispered. It was the same one that brought him to Thranduil’s doorstep that night. It made him feel sick and he continued his perusal of the stack more quickly in hopes of a warmer memory.

The very last one offered just the distraction. It was of a starkly different woman. Bard instantly knew she must have been even more beautiful in the flesh, as was her flesh; pale and rosy, her blue eyes like shimmering gems, hair like silver gold. As luck would have it, her image compelled Bard to turn the photo over. A name!

Thranduil stirred.

Putting everything back exactly the way he found it, Bard shut the drawer midway and planted himself in the armchair across the room. With the shotgun resting safely on his lap, he let his head drop back and enunciated each individual letter of her name like he had Thranduil’s. “Thranduil…” He thought, watching over the man who had undoubtedly changed his life until he too fell asleep. “Who are _you_ , really?”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry its been ages since I've updated. I've not only moved, but switched jobs, and started up a small business venture. Needless to say, it's been crazy around here! 
> 
> Thank you all for reading, and sticking around!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The turn of events bring the Bowmans and Greenleafs closer together in unexpected ways.

“Bain, please don’t turn on the stove until you’re ready to cook. We really don’t want any incidents this time.”

“This won’t be like last week, Sig. I promise.” Bain replied from the deep recesses of the pantry. “Jackpot! Anybody up for a little bourbon?”

“Me!” Tilda cried, hopping up on one of the plush benches of the large kitchen island. “Can I help crack the eggs? Oh, please, can I?”

“Of course you can, Little Me.” Sigrid placed a medium bowl and whisk in front of her and carefully demonstrated how to crack and beat the first one. “Let’s see, we’ll need at least eight. Think you can handle them all on your own?”

Tilda smiled bashfully, “That’s an awful lot."

“I’ll help you, Tilly!” Legolas cried excitedly, joining Tilda on the bench donning identical pink hippo pajamas and tousled bed hair. Carefully sitting his favorite stuffed moose next to Tilda’s panda bear, they rolled up their sleeves and dived in. Literally. Sigrid kept a close eye on them as she sliced her freshly baked bread, smiling to herself when Legolas sweetly wiped away some yolk off Tilda’s cheek with his sleeve. “Don’t eat it, Tilly, it’s yucky raw.”

“Already did,” she whispered. “Tastes like… boogers!” They both laughed.

The doorbell rang and Sigrid discreetly tucked the breadknife into the deep pocket of the men’s apron she’d been donning all morning, just in case. “You three be good, I’ll be right back.”

“I’d have let myself in but I needed another hand...” Glorfindel straightened to full height to see with mild surprised that it was Sigrid Bowman that had answered the Greenleaf’s door. “Well, hello.”

“Hello yourself.” Sigrid smirked; relieved it wasn’t some other distasteful caller. She pushed the door open and grabbed the other two bags off the stoop. “Hope you’re hungry. We’re making French Toast, a Bowman Family specialty.”

“Marshmallows?” Came Bain again from the pantry. “How are we to decide? There’s a mountain of treasure in here!”

“You’re welcome,” Glorfindel stated. Putting down the amply stuffed grocery bags on the counter pointedly, he winked at Sigrid.

 “You’re uncle’s here, Legolas.”

 “What have you two got there?” Glorfindel leant down between them to inspect and kissed Legolas.

 "We’re beating the eggs, Uncle Fin!” Legolas giggled, barely able to peck him back with kisses without sending the bowl tumbling over. Luckily he was able to grab hold of it in time to cover Tilda as Glorfindel proceeded to introduce himself to her. He gave her kisses too, much to her chagrin, and she blushed adorably as a result.

Bain emerged sometime later with his haul of chocolate chips, jams, jellies, compote, Nutella, and a large bag of walnuts and pillowy mellows.

“What? No bourbon after all?”

“We got young kids around. Probably in bad taste.” Bain replied. He took one look at Glorfindel and stopped dead in his tracks. “Holy mackerel, another elf!”

“Bain, manners.” Sigrid warned, glancing apologetically at Glorfindel before helping her brother unload some of the pantry findings out of his arms. “Sorry,” she offered. “He’s heavy into ‘The Lord of the Rings’ at the moment. Says you’re a secret society of elves, you lot, the last hiding amongst us _common_ folk.”

Amused and delighted, Glorfindel only encouraged him with questions and sent him on a bout of excitement that lasted nearly as long as it took the five of them to prepare three dozen servings of French Toast, hot strawberry compote, and a pile of turkey bacon big enough to feed a band of dwarves. By then, the clamor and delicious aroma drifted into every nook and cranny of the customarily quiet household, and as such, roused any remaining stragglers.

Thranduil was buck-naked. Dropping the blanket back to his lap, he listened groggily at the array of sounds coming at him in all directions. His brain was already having trouble recalling how he’d ended up with no clothes on, and much less while whoever the hell it was making all that damned noise. Then Bard emerged from his on-suite bathroom still wet from a shower and without a shirt on and things really got interesting.

Bard was caught unawares. He was so stunned that he held up a hand and probably said the last thing anyone with truly decent intentions would say in a situation like this. “It’s not what it looks like.”     

Thranduil chuckled, leaning forward with speculative interest. “Can we pretend it’s exactly what it looks like?”

“You’re in a funny mood.” Bard opted to remain shirtless. Thranduil’s eyes seemed to dim at the prospect of him putting it back on anytime soon.

“Sit with me?”

Bard acquiesced, planting himself right next to him against the upholstered headboard. The scent of his freshly showered skin was both fragrant and warm against his shoulder. It was soothing, and both in his physical state of nakedness and his emotional one, Thranduil let his body rest against his in hopes that Bard’s warmth could permeate through the dermal cells and chase away the stubborn chill that inundated nearly all aspects of his life. Intuitive was Bard Bowman, who somehow listened closely to his thoughts and pressed him closer with both arms. It was neither chaste nor overly hasty, simply in perfect synchronicity.

 

“Well, well. Someone cleans up nicely, don’t they?” Glorfindel spun Legolas around to face the mirror and all spectating had to cover their ears as Legolas let out the most epic shriek of excitement that shook the tiny bathroom space.

Two intricate fishtail braids adorned his head, with a perfect part down the middle and just enough loose strands to inspire the androgynous confidence of the likes of David Bowie and Iggy Pop. “You’re a genius, Uncle Fin!”

Glorfindel feigned a coy blush and flipped his set of identical braids forward playfully. “Oh, this old thing? A classic never dies.”

Tilda hopped up and down, stepping on her brother’s toe in the process. “Me next, me next!”

Sigrid and Bain watched the ease in which Glorfindel sculpted their sister’s curly hair into the most volumous up-do that would make any Victorian Socialite weep with envy. He even strung it gorgeously with a pair of silver Mardi Gras beads they found randomly in one of the drawers. “And for the _pièce de résistance_ …” With a pouf he finished her look with a sweep of pink against her cheeks and a dot just aside her little heart-painted lips. “ _Voila, me petite!_ Perfection.”

Legolas was in love. “My lady,” he said, bowing before taking her hand and helping her down from the chair.

“ _Merci, monsieur_.”

Bain elbowed Sigrid, “Your turn!”

Glorfindel and the lot turned to her expectantly, and Sigrid barely finished smacking Bain to form a protest before they all shoved her into the hot seat. “If you turn me into a French debutante, I swear on all that is Christian..."

"Nonsense, _Cherie_.” Glorfindel chuckled, grabbing some professional grade heat protectant and a flat iron from his bag of tricks. “I have just the look for you.”

 

When they had fallen back to sleep they weren’t sure, only that they awoke more peaceful than either had in a very long time. Blue met brown in sleepy acknowledgement only to close again, this time briefly, as their lips met for the very first time. It was as if they were both mind readers then. Bard deepened it and Thranduil responded in kind. Whispers of their pleasure came in the form of short breath intakes, involuntary leg movements, and errant fingers that quickly became lost in one another’s hair.

“Bard…” Thranduil’s voice came out weak, soft, with an equally brittle intention as he quickly became lost to Bard and his progressively bold affections. Oh, but how he liked it.

Biting down and softly tugging on his plump bottom lip, Bard encouraged him to continue only after releasing it, kissing them fully once more. Slowly, he backed away far enough to see his face but without severing their connection entirely. The diffused morning light coming through the sheers lit up every feature on Thranduil’s face as though it came from within. Mussed and lightly sweaty with arousal, Bard only saw what could become of him should he give in to his deepest desires.

What he wouldn’t give to see pure ecstasy fully transform that striking face.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy. What ever shall Bard do? :)


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Desire can be cosmic.

In that moment Thranduil found Bard disconcertingly hard to read. Thranduil would fuck him in a heartbeat, wanted to fuck him the moment he caught him looking at his unexpected exposure on orientation day. The way he was looking at him now was indicative of the mutual desire they held for each other, but what the hell was he waiting for? 

He was having second thoughts. All the good ones always did. 

Bard sensed the mood had changed all of a sudden and the shade of Thranduil’s eyes confirmed it all. They were indigo, the color of stormy seas. He’d gotten so caught up in his thoughts that the opportunity slipped right through his fingers. Hesitant to offer an apology or ask him now that he was visibly upset, Bard sat up completely. 

Thranduil was twice the bastard any man thought they were. 

Sliding out of bed, Thranduil proceeded to saunter leisurely around the room in all his naked glory until he found, lit, and fucking hummed around a cigarette for a solid minute or two. He’d sat himself in the armchair afterwards to finish it off, reclining with such brazen openness and making the message painstakingly clear. Every second of it was torture for Bard, who openly met his gaze with equal amounts of frustration and understanding. Rejection was a foreign concept to Thranduil. He must have never known a partner to ask for his permission either. Bard was quite sure and knew what he must do. 

Thranduil’s attention fell away from his cigarette and back to Bard when he slowly came to kneel down before him. Ashes fell away from the idle cylinder as he proceeded to cup and wedge himself between his thighs. He leant forward, brought their mouths back into close proximity and this time spoke his mind in a language he was sure to be familiar with. “What I wouldn’t give to make you come and wipe that smug look off your fucking face.” Even with this well-practiced façade, he couldn’t stop himself from trembling at the sound of Bard’s voice forming such straightfoward desire. 

“In fact, I’ve only got two little words left to say to you.” Bard followed the length of his sculpted torso until his mouth was perfectly square with the tip of Thranduil’s cock. He took it in his cool hand and found the smooth flesh fully hard at the prospect. At the ready for a taste, Bard turned his gaze back to Thranduil intently. “May I?” 

“Yes!” Thranduil keened, suddenly more turned on than he’d ever experienced. His entire body rippled with it. From his head down to his toes, Bard watched it stand every hair on edge, burst forth sweat from every pore, harden each nipple, send the cigarette butt to fall free from his fingers as he closed his eyes and groan from the pleasure. Then and only then did Bard make good on his promise and took him in his mouth. 

“What’s your favorite part?” Thranduil propped his head up on an arm, the other too busy grabbing on to Bard’s bobbing head. 

Bard felt by his grip that Thranduil really wanted an answer right at that moment and stopped what he was doing. “What?” 

“What’s your favorite part,” he asked again. “About fucking me?” 

Bard gazed at Thranduil’s gorgeously disheveled hair and tried to form the words to describe how mouthwatering he looked, but Thranduil really didn’t give him much of a chance. 

“Let’s find out.” Thranduil hauled them both up to their feet and leading him over to the desk, he flipped the chair around and shoved him roughly into it. Bard could barely speak and simply braced himself for what was about to happen as Thranduil straddled his lap and guided his cock into his ass. Thranduil gasped and grabbed hold of the back of the chair with both hands for dear life as he lowered himself down, not stopping until he was fully seated. The sensation was unreal. 

Bard echoed the sentiment. The moment his body pierced Thranduil’s was so indescribably alien that Bard found he couldn’t breathe. The tightness, the overwhelming heat of doing this again and with…with Thranduil no less, it just became too much too soon. Thranduil began rocking in his lap with such wanton abandon that Bard couldn’t look away, and the sensation of his ass in his lap, riding his cock, lasted maybe two full strokes before his world went cosmic. 

Thranduil halted abruptly as the cock inside him suddenly went flaccid. “Did you? Did you just come?” Sweeping hair away from his face, Thranduil looked down between them. The sudden leaking sensation that followed was the final confirmation. Thranduil tried to get up but Bard stopped him immediately. 

He closed his eyes and focused on breathing for just a few more seconds before meeting Thranduil’s probing gaze. “I’ve only ever been with one woman and after three kids, you know, this…you being a man and the way you look, and the way your body feels around my…” Bard stroked his silky thighs nervously. “It’s been a while since I’ve been with anyone, and I didn’t expect my first time with a man to feel so right.” 

"You really should have said something. I would have been more sensible about my approach."

“There's nothing sensible about you...” Bard pulled him down and kissed him, shifting Thranduil’s weight back into primo position much to his surprise. “Now, I’d like to do it again if it’s alright with you.”

“Yes,” Thranduil murmured in reply. “It’s alright with me.”

______

 

“Sigrid!” Bain shouted from the kitchen. “They’re hungry again!” 

“Feeding time already?” Glorfindel tossed some of the straightened silk to the front of her shoulders and smiled at Sigrid’s reflection expectantly. “So? What’s the verdict?” he asked. 

The transformation awoke her physiology. Her nipples stood on end. Her lips felt blistered at the littlest thought of touching them to Glorfindel’s, the man who first made her feel dangerous beyond her own colorful imaginings.

“I need to use the toilet,” she declared. “Now.” Sigrid shoved him and his bag of tricks out the door and locked the door behind him. Safely alone, she spun around and gasped for air. Her entire body was shaking like a leaf. She turned on the faucet and splashed icy water to her face and discovered it was futile. It wasn’t her face that was burning to a cinder. Securing her back against the door, Sigrid half-listened to the commotion beyond as she undid the button and zipper to her jean shorts and shoved her hand down the front of her panties. 

Glorfindel showed Bain and the kids how to build lasagna with no-boil pasta, all the while entertaining the possibility that he had deeply offended Sigrid and how best to apologize. Was it something he said?

“How long do we bake it for, Glorfindel?” Bain asked, waving the kitchen timer he’d found. 

“Forty-five minutes.” 

“When is Ada coming down?"

"Yeah!" Tilda chimed in, "And my Da?"

There was so much activity through the afternoon that Glorfindel almost forgot that those two hadn’t made an appearance all day. He hadn’t so much heard a toilet flush. Glorfindel made a funny face and both the little ones laughed. Bain read between the lines. “Um, are they...?"

“I can only imagine.” Glorfindel handed him the bowl of baby carrots, “Man the fort while I go take a peek?” He almost suggested he check on Sigrid too, but held his tongue. Whatever she was up to was going on half-an-hour and girls were complex creatures. 

Thranduil and Bard were sitting quietly together on the loveseat passing a bottle of wine between each other and ignoring their damp bathrobes. The enormous window perfectly framed the brilliant sun setting over the lake when they emerged from the bathroom to get dressed and head downstairs. Needless to say their priorities changed the instant Bard saw it. Thranduil handed him the last swig and fished a joint out of a box nearby. “Would you care to partake?”

Bard half-smiled, still reeling from an entire day spent in bed with someone who pleased him beyond measure. “I go back to being your son’s teacher in just a few short hours. What I should be doing is heading home to put my three kids to bed.” Thranduil lit the weed and when he exhaled he exhaled into the crook of his neck. Bard turned away from the sunset for the first time since they sat down and took a deep, sensuous breath. The smell of pot and Thranduil made him lightheaded and the feeling of living in a waking dream returned. 

Thranduil felt the pulse point against his lips speed up erratically. “Stay with me…”

Glorfindel watched as Thranduil shared his next hit with Bard, their mouths distinctly coming together in a way that he and Thranduil never shared when they smoked together. The sun had fully set and they were shrouded in darkness before he finally knocked.


	10. Chapter 10

"I hate sleeping in this fucking car.”  
  
Glorfindel swung the passenger door open with an excited grin. "This time tomorrow we’ll be flying back, first class.”  
  
Thranduil glared at him from behind his sunglasses. They had driven all night and all he wanted was a hot shower, a soft bed, and some decent food. Glorfindel appeased him with the first and last, but the most important one had Thranduil seething on their way to the Hilton later that evening.  
  
"The motel was a smart move. We have a lot of ground to cover and we need every penny we have." Thranduil half listened as they made their way through the lavish lobby towards the bustling casino. “Would you mind getting started without me? I hate waiting around for things to heat up.”  
  
“Are you sure? It’s your money.”  
  
“It’s my father’s money. Yes, I’m sure.”  
  
Across the way, behind the private lounge that separated the casino area with the rest of the hotel was a long row of small boutiques filled with all sorts of beautiful things. The one closest by was a jeweler, but its wares were hardly what caught his eye. On an elaborate foyer table by the entrance sat a silver platter filled with expensive chocolates.  
  
Thranduil casually walked in, never mind that he looked completely out of place in ripped jeans, biker boots, and his tremendously long blonde hair. He was very tall with fine features, and was often mistaken for a privileged eccentric so the clerk hardly gave him more than a short nod before continuing her sale of an extravagant diamond necklace to an older distinguished looking couple.  
  
“The finest for only $82,000.00.”  
  
They were ultimately too consumed with their dealings to notice him take a giant handful of candies and slip them into the outer pocket of his pack. He then grabbed another to enjoy while he meandered around killing time, but quickly realized he hadn't been very discrete after all.  
  
Out in the hallway, surrounded by a group of corporate people fussing after him, was Thorin Oakenshield. Everyone was far too preoccupied to notice he'd stopped to catch him red-handed through the display window of the shop as they were walking by, or the knowing smile he offered the beautiful thief.  
  
Thranduil bolted from the store immediately and ducked into another one further down the hall. It was a spacious and modern clothing store with more places to hide. If he got them kicked out of the hotel for theft, or worse, Glorfindel would never forgive him. After ten minutes or so, Thranduil relaxed.  
  
He wandered around perusing the racks to further distract his thoughts and ended up finding a gorgeous form-fitting mermaid gown in fine black velvet. It was strapless with a plunging neckline, designed to cradle breasts and display them like precious treasure. Thranduil ignored the price tag and plucked it off the rack. He walked over to a floor mirror nearby and fed the hanger around his neck so the gown hung by the loops along his front. If only he could try it on properly.  
  
Dropping his worn pack to the floor, Thranduil unbutton his flannel shirt and shrugged it down to his elbows. He then pressed the soft velvet against his alabaster skin with one hand and gathered his hair up haphazardly with the other. For a brief moment he was donning it with more power than any human woman.  
  
"It suits you."  
  
Thranduil dropped the fantasy and his handful of hair and turned to face the second figure in the mirror. He had no choice but to play it cool even with his heart pounding through his chest. “Pardon?”  
  
"I know that look when I see it."  
  
"Do you? Well, I can't afford it." Thranduil admitted, disentangling himself form the dress and depositing it back on the rack.  
  
"That's too bad," He replied, roving over the lean and muscular lines of Thranduil’s torso to the perfectly formed ass. He could only imagine the sinewy shape of those long legs. "I think you ought to have the gown. Let me buy it for you."  
  
Feeling suddenly on display himself, Thranduil made quick work with the buttons of his shirt. He scoffed, "You want to buy me this dress?”  
  
"I've enjoyed watching you," He replied coolly. "You've earned it."  
  
"No, I haven't." Thranduil grabbed his belongings off the floor and looked him dead in the eye as he brushed passed him. "The gown is for sale. I'm not."  
  
“I’ve offended you.”  
  
Thranduil turned back sharply. “Do they teach billionaires how to apologize? Because you fucking suck at it.”  
  
“You know who I am then.”  
  
Thranduil shrugged, feigning disinterest. “Name someone in this country who doesn’t.”  
  
“Let me apologize. Are you staying at the hotel?”  
  
“We’re just passing through.”  
  
“Ah yes, you… and your friend.” Thorin reached out and stroked a mink stole the color of midnight. It shined beautifully in the light. “Well, looks like he’s keen on doing some gambling before you go. Please, allow me to get you both a suite, and anything else you might need during your stay.”  
  
Thranduil knew well enough to read between the lines with men like him. “If you insist,” he replied.  
  
“I have a yacht several miles off shore with a spectacular view of the stars.” Thorin tucked his hands into his pockets and smiled, “Tonight. I’ll send for you.”  
  
\-----------  
  
Glorfindel gazed out quietly at the panoramic view of Vegas from their new suite while Thranduil took a bath. His thoughts eventually returned to the gown lying on the California King bed, worth nearly seven thousand dollars with a name on the tag he couldn’t pronounce, and felt the knot in his stomach tighten. It appeared Thranduil found a solution to his current dilemma all on his own. Or, did he?  
  
When Thranduil emerged from the bathroom, Glorfindel had long returned to the casino and in his stead awaited a professional hair and makeup artist, manicurist, and masseuse. All three serviced him and dismissed themselves thereafter, and he spent the final hour dressing alone. Freshly waxed and moisturized, he slipped on the stockings without hindrance. The custom bodice came next, perfectly matched to his skin tone, texture, and reflecting his host’s desired cup size and shape. The new silhouette filled the designer gown exquisitely. Thranduil turned around, bringing the sleek ponytail temporarily to the front, and examined his derriere and exposed back and shoulders. Encased like precious treasure indeed. Strands of the finest diamonds adorned his ears, neck, and wrist, and the fine mist of Dior perfume sparkled in the warm glow of the vanity where he sat to touch up his glossy nude lips and slide into red bottom Christian Louboutin pumps.  
  
At 7:00 o’clock precisely, his escort arrived and presented him with the finishing touch before they departed to the rooftop helipad; a mink stole the color of midnight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love the movie 'Indecent Proposal', so I borrowed. I hope you enjoyed another rule bending chapter! I have this huge idea for an epic cluster fuck, but haven't been able to actually write it down yet. Thanks for reading! <3


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Legolas and Thranduil share a birthday. Sigrid comes home. Bard learns something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I make no money from this. SEXUAL CONTENT WARNING.

Legolas awoke to the scent of his father’s clean hair and the weight of his arms wrapped around him in remarkably peaceful sleep. The gentle smile he always gave him on this particular day each year awaited him when he finally opened his eyes. Legolas prolonged the silence until he was ready to let go of the warmth they shared in that brief moment. “Happy birthday to you, Ada.” 

“Happy birthday, my Little Leaf.” Thranduil swept errant hair away from his forehead before depositing a kiss on his soft skin. “Ask me anything,” he said, knowing his son all too well after his seven previous birthdays. “Anything you’d like.” 

“What color eyes did mommy have?” Legolas whispered. “I don’t remember.” 

“She had the bluest, bluest eyes.” Thranduil chuckled forlornly at their uncanny resemblance. “Like staring into a vast, pure ocean.” Legolas raised his brows, his father’s green eyes shining like emeralds in the soft morning light. He was telling him the truth. Thranduil couldn’t deny that Legolas carried so much of her, his gaze only the beginning. “My father will be coming to see you.”

“Grandpa?” The boy sat up, his mother’s wide eyes suddenly staring at him in wonderment. They just as quickly darkened with the weight of some deeper understanding. “I don’t want him to if it’s going to upset you.” 

“Legolas.” He interjected with a forceful tone. Thranduil’s gaze softened and he reached up and tucked some hair behind his ear. “You’re his one and only grandchild and you’re ten years old today. He wouldn’t dare miss it, and I think I can make this one exception.” 

“You’re his one and only son, Ada.” Legolas replied thoughtfully. “When was the last time you saw him?” 

**********

Everyone was still asleep when Thranduil returned to his room, including Bard. After the conversation he’d had with his ten year old, the desire to go to sleep was long gone. Thranduil stopped at the foot of the bathroom door and gazed at the man in his bed. More than a year had come and gone. 

Under the scalding hot shower, Thranduil thought about all the secrets he harbored from almost everyone around him. Legolas, Haldir, Bard, even Glorfindel, although Glorfindel had quickly become the exception. Nothing got passed him these days, and Thranduil was thankful for the relief that someone knew the truth about him… and Thorin.

Oakenshield. Thranduil rested his forehead against the dewy tiles and sighed. He managed to avoid him for the better part of a year, but it would take more than ignoring his calls and deleting his texts and emails to dissolve what they had created all those years ago. Thranduil felt a stir at the memory. The world was still asleep and in the shower he felt safe. Safe to let him slither into the forefront of his mind and carry him to a place he hadn’t experienced with anyone else.

Thranduil reached up and coiled his long hair tightly around one wrist until his scalp tingled. He grabbed the base of his awakening cock with the other and instantly keened.

Thorin brushed his thighs against Thranduil’s ass, pleased with his submissive display. This elicited a wanton gasp from Thranduil, who burned with the knowledge of how close his partner’s cock was to the very epicenter of his existence. “Please,” he whispered. Planting a foot on the raised edge of the shower, he bent forward at the waist and presented himself further to the scrutiny of his imaginary captor. “Please.” Letting go of his fully hardened erection, Thranduil grabbed the toy sitting idly on the ledge beside him and slowly brought it to his backside. “Please.”

“Drop it.” 

Thranduil’s eyes flew open. Even in this gratuitous haze, he knew he wasn’t alone. Before he could move however, he found he was being held in place by a grip far more superior than his own. He dropped the toy. 

“Put both hands on the wall in front of you.” 

Thranduil failed to do so immediately, dazed and elated, and was forewarned with a sharp tug of his hair. He did as he was told. 

“Spread your legs.”

Thranduil more than complied.

“Perfect…” 

Thranduil’s reward was to be suddenly spun around on his ankles and accept a mouthful of dick. More like a throatful. Thranduil’s hands immediately went for his thighs, which were brushed off by a few forceful thumps on the forehead. He dropped them into his lap and forcibly breathed around his girth, his head starting to swim with the grip on his hair and the lack of oxygen. 

“Let me see those hands.” 

Thranduil’s idle hands shot up and took over just as he felt faint. The grip in his hair eased, and he was able to prolong his pleasure with his elegant fingers while he more or less caught his breath. Blonde hair still wound around his fist meant instant corporeal punishment for breaking form, so he took it like a champ without more than the squelch of it entering and exiting his mouth and throat.

“Keep your eyes on that cock.” 

Thranduil was lost on how much pleasure he derived from sucking a man’s dick. He loved it up the ass and it was an inevitable certainty that they’d both achieve orgasm that way, so what else could they possibly need? Thranduil was in a meditative state of sexual ecstasy with the reminder, now working the thick shaft with his fingers and his mouth, tongue and cheeks. 

“Are you ready to take my cock up that sweet ass?” 

Thranduil felt a tug on his hair and the head popped out of his mouth. He actually wanted an answer. “You ready to show me how?” Thranduil asked him in reply, kittenishly licking his red and swollen lips. His eyes were still pinned on his cock and he even reached out for it with a gesturing flick of his tongue. Thranduil was instantly swiveled around onto all fours, head pinned down to the wet floor and his ample ass aimed high in the air. Somehow his skeletal structure allowed him to arch his back to the point of snapping before he felt any discomfort and the angles always drove men crazy. Without being told, he spread his thighs and put his hands on the back of his head. He’ll either want to pin them against his lower back, grip them like handles, or both. 

“Reach back and grab your ass. Spread those fingers.” 

That was new.

“Keep them right there.”

Thranduil felt something brush up against his exposed sphincter and gasped. The grip in his hair had gone and he somehow hadn’t noticed. That sensation wasn’t a finger or the head of his cock. It was something far more erotic and intimate that he offered, lewd but positively delicious. Thranduil closed his eyes and couldn’t help but bite down on his lower lip as he reached as far back as his fingers could go and spread his ass wide open. Nothing happened. “Since when do you need an invitation?” Thranduil huffed, wishing he’d take action without any words but too forgone to give a shit about modesty. “Lick my asshole.” 

“You want me to lick your little asshole?” 

“Yes.” Thranduil felt his words ghost across it but still no contact came. He turned his head as far as he could over one shoulder, squeezing both handfuls off his ass invitingly. “Loosen it up,” he crooned deeply from under wet lashes, “and fuck me.”

The sudden onslaught from moist lips and his tongue had Thranduil writhing were he knelt. The grooves in the tile scratched his face and his hair was surely a lost cause but he didn’t care, the only thing that existed was that talented mouth on his ass and how crazy it drove him. After ten relentless minutes, Thranduil was shaking like a leaf. 

“Get up and bend over.” 

Thranduil’s joints were grateful for the variety as everything culminated to this final act. Reined into position by the hair, Thranduil braced himself against the wall and closed his eyes. The length of him sank into Thranduil like a hot knife through butter, the initial pressure of the alien intrusion blooming into pleasure in his expert hands. 

“Is this what you want?” 

“Yes.” 

“To be fucked from behind?” 

“Yes,” Thranduil shivered, clutching the toned forearm that came to encircle his shoulders and suddenly yank him upright against his rippling chest. Pinned between the cradle of his hips and the wall, Thranduil felt his resolve weaken under the burning desire building in his core. His body softened against his possessive captor and he nuzzled the column of his neck in attempt to dissuade him. “I can’t take much more.” 

“You can and you will.”

What began as a little more than a lilt quickly turned into a manic pace for deliverance. The sound of their bodies crashing into one another over and over again soon drifted above the running water like a cacophony. Thranduil could barely take him anymore. The thunderous jolt of electricity that came with every snap of his hips was quickly unraveling him fiber by fiber. “Please…” Fingers crept into his mouth and stifled his cries when a hand reached around and began stroking his neglected cock. Thranduil was under siege. 

“Come now.” 

Thranduil did, and was cast into oblivion. 

**********

Bard, Bain, and Tilda celebrated Thranduil and Legolas’s joint birthdays privately over brunch later that morning. It was sweet and uneventful, although there was one distinct absence that didn’t go unnoticed.

Thranduil and Bard exchanged glances, “Where’s Glorfindel? Her plane landed over an hour ago.”

Legolas thanked everyone gratefully, including his Ada, for the wonderful breakfast and all the pre-party goodies he’d received. “May we be excused?” He finally asked, helping Tilda out of her chair and filling their arms with loot.

No texts. Thranduil tossed his phone beside his empty plate. “Yes, go play.”

“Hold it.” Bard grabbed ahold of his retreating daughter and swiped his moist thumb across her sticky cheek. Tilda rolled her eyes playfully. Satisfied, Bard kissed her as well before letting her go for good. He then turned his attention to Thranduil, who was distractedly checking his phone again. Bard reached across the table and gently squeezed his forearm. “Are you alright?”

“Dammit, Glorfindel.” Thranduil murmured. “What? Yes, fine. Just wondering what the hell is taking so long.” He feigned a smile and waived him off, effectively breaking contact with him. “It’s not like him to be late, and today of all days?”

“We’ve got plenty of time, Thran.” Bard replied, smiling empathetically. “Sigrid texted me when she landed. It’ll take them at least half an hour to claim her luggage and with the recent snowfall there’s going to be some delay on the way home. You also have me every step of the way today. We’ll be ready.”

Thranduil had picked up his phone again and Bard was sort of shocked when Thranduil delayed in acknowledging his effort. He avoided eye contact completely and opted to try Fin again instead. “Thanks for breakfast, babe.”

Bard watched him retreat into the kitchen without another word and sighed. _Babe. _It made him feel like he was just some cute little waitress that caught his eye over brunch, not his gracious boyfriend of over a year. Something was definitely on his mind, and Bard had sneaking suspicion it had nothing to do with his estranged father’s imminent visit. He cleared the table and brought the dirty dishes into the kitchen. Thranduil had stepped out onto the back porch to make his call, and Bard studied him further through the window while he did the dishes.__

____

____

*********

“What do you mean up to three business days? I’m only back for four and its Friday!” Sigrid was completely floored by how often would-be adults carried on like four year olds.

“Sigrid!”

Sigrid turned away from the indifferent attendant, going wide-eyed at the sight of Glorfindel waiving to her far beyond the baggage claim crowd. A warm, familiar feeling bloomed in her chest and she smiled and waived back. Jesus Christ, was he perfection. His strong, muscular frame was clad in almost all black. A few grey layers peeked from under a black cardigan sweater he wore over a relaxed pair of jeans. A wool scarf around his neck hung the length of his torso and accentuated his hips as he walked. His winter parka was also black, except for the stark contrast of the natural sheepskin lining jutting from the hood. The mane of his silvery blonde hair was sleek in a relaxed ponytail. Glorfindel was effortlessly beautiful and it seemed everyone in the terminal did a double take as he walked passed.

“Miss!”

Sigrid glowered at the airline clerk through the beat-up screen of his booth. “I need my bag _today. _”__

____

____

“Leave a number and we’ll call you, that’s the best I can do.”

“Listen, Daryl? This job is above your pay grade.” Sigrid filled out the form, completely annoyed that her hands were tied. Not only were her gifts to Legolas and Thranduil in that bag, but also a few sentimental items she’d refused to abandon when she moved to University. “Thanks for nothing.”

“I lost my soul long ago, sugar tits. NEXT.”

“Wow.”

On the flip side, Glorfindel seemed to be approaching her with some degree of excitement. She was delighted that he threw his arms around her and openly embraced her just like old times.“Is that really you?” He exclaimed, pulling away and examining her with proud eyes. “You’ve grown up.” Glorfindel was mystified. From the get-go he recognized a profound maturity in Bard’s eldest that resulted from the sudden death of their mother, but now there was a knowing in her eyes that came with the whole college experience. The girl they’d sent away had returned a ripe young woman.

“Have I?” Sigrid asked curiously, pulling him down for a kiss on the mouth. Coming from a family that often kissed this way, Glorfindel accepted it chastely while inwardly Sigrid’s heart leapt. “How can you tell?”

Glorfindel’s petal soft lips were chilly against her own.

“Every time I turn around you’re older, wiser, and more beautiful.” He continued matter-of-factly, noticing she had on poor choices of clothing; a shirt so thin he could nearly see through it, skinny jeans with holes in the knees, and a threadbare hoodie that only covered the top half of her body. When he wrapped his scarf around her neck and offered her his parka for good measure, Sigrid was in absolute heaven.

They walked all the way to the car park with his arm wrapped around her, lovingly shielding her further from the winter chill. “Wait till your father sees you. He won’t want to let you out of his sight for fear of all those boys catching on.”

“How can you blame him? I am quite a catch.” Sigrid quipped boldly, buckling into the passenger seat of Glorfindel’s sleek Range Rover. His scent surrounded her in the warm, comfortable cabin, a tantalizingly masculine blend of oiled leather and sandalwood that jumpstarted her resolve.

College life had afforded her with more than just a first class academic education. Right from the start it taught her a lot about boys. How they act, think, like to fuck, and how easily she could obtain the upper hand on any one of them. Whether it's as simple as an extra scoop of ice cream on their dime, or as daunting as convincing the TA in biology to boost a major grade, Sigrid learned how to play to win.

“Not to worry,” She added finally, admiring Glorfindel’s chiseled profile while he drove. “I’ve set my sights much higher.”

They made a stop at the local market so she could pickup some essentials. While Sigrid roamed down the cosmetics aisles, Glorfindel stayed put with the basket when Thranduil phoned.

“My fucking father is coming. Where the hell are you?”

“We’ll be fine.” Glorfindel replied calmly. Sigrid swung by and dropped a few things in the hand basket. Evidently Sigrid’s trip essentials included a box of prophylactics and personal lubricant, and Glorfindel found himself a little shocked that she didn’t appear the least bit worried about him knowing she was sexually active. He returned his attention back to the call. “Sigrid and I will be home in twenty minutes. In the meantime, talk with your boyfriend. It’s what he’s there for after all.”

“Bollocks,” Sigrid remarked, returning with a tube of red lipstick in one hand and her phone in the other. “Can’t they survive without us for more than ten minutes?”

“Your dad called?”

“How’d you guess? Sounds like they’re about to self destruct or something.” Sigrid glanced over the goods in the basket and nodded. “That’ll do, let’s go.”

They reached the checkout counter and Glorfindel watched as the cashier rang up her items, pausing at the last two: the condoms and lube. “These also yours?”

“Yes.” Sigrid replied. She then turned to Glorfindel and grabbed the end of his ponytail, significantly putting them in close proximity with a tilt of her hips. “Would you mind terribly if I asked you to spot me for these? Da still watches my debits and all my cash is with my bag.”

Glorfindel quirked a brow suspiciously while humor tugged at the corners of his mouth. She managed to appear somewhat innocuous even as she shamelessly bit her lip and gazed up at him from behind her long lashes. He lifted a finger to her nose and warned her in a smooth, even tone. “Just this once, and not a word to your father.” Pulling his wallet out his back pocket, he handed the cashier a twenty.

 _I’m an adult now, Fin._ Sigrid declared pointedly to herself. _We don’t need his permission._

******

Sigrid’s presence calmed the fraying nerves in the house. Bain and the kids were instantly happy to see her, and Glorfindel was right, Bard was astounded.

“I didn’t think it was possible for her to be any more grown up.” Bard confessed aloud, looking up from his growing pile of chopped onion to find Thranduil already gazing at him across the kitchen island. He looked like he had been doing some hard thinking of his own just now. “Either you’re about to tell me what’s been on your mind, or throw up in the chili.” He slowly brought both hands over the Dutch oven between them. “Which is it?”

Something even weirder happened. Thranduil laughed. That stoic face lit up like a Christmas tree and Bard stood there completely astounded for the second time in two hours.

Bard was both delighted to see him drop his guard and unsure about what to make of it. In fact, Bard wasn’t entirely sure what to make of Thranduil. All he knew was that he was falling in love with a total stranger, and said stranger’s dad was coming to dinner. If the situation was anything like the one Thranduil had with Haldir, it ought to be a very eye opening meal.

Thranduil cleared the tears from his eyes to find Bard’s mind was elsewhere. The brunette looked deeply contemplative, like he’d felt moments before deciding to tell him the truth. Jesus Christ. Were they both on the cusp of telling each other some epic truth, and today of all days?

Bard was ripped out of his thoughts by a hand on his ass. He whirled around to face Thranduil, who proceeded to pin him against the island with his hips as if he had every intention of fucking him in plain view of the household. “Thranduil…”

“Shut the fuck up,” Thranduil breathed, capturing his mouth in a searing kiss.

He mapped the hard lines of Bard’s torso through his clothes with his palms, and when he reached between them and openly cupped the growing bulge in his pants, Bard gasped and seized both of his wrists.

Thranduil glanced down between them when he failed to push them away and smirked. “I don’t think you really want to stop, Bard.”

It might have been the culminating frustration with Thranduil’s lack of emotional involvement in their relationship, or maybe just wanting his undivided attention for once that drove Bard to respond the way he did. Twisting him around by the arm in one swift motion, Bard grabbed him by the forearms and jammed his tight ass into his crotch. “And I think your presumptuous little attitude is getting old. What do you think should be done about that?”

The expression on Thranduil’s face in the reflection of the microwave in front of them spoke volumes. Bard smiled to himself and abruptly released him, fetching a head of lettuce from the fridge and placing it calmly before the speechless blonde. “Start chopping.”


End file.
